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Show Personal Service j By THAYER WALDO i (McClure Syndicate WNU Service.) J T) EYNOLD RAND gave himself j over to the luxury of a near-I near-I leer. In fact, refusing it status as a j full-fledged one is based upon pure-j pure-j ly technical grounds: he neglected I to exhibit his eontortional tour de force. Rather, he screened it with great care behind his open newspaper. news-paper. Of course, that may have been all for the best; there was a lady seated opposite him at the breakfast table, and she chanced to be his wife. "But my dear girl," he said, nothing noth-ing but silk in the purr; "my dear, dear girl how preposterous! Could you conceive of idiotic jealous suspicions sus-picions in me, of all people? I engaged en-gaged a bodyguard for you merely to ensure your complete protection and my peace of mind." With an emphatic movement Irene Rand reached across and snatched the printed barricade from his hands. "You." she stated in flat accusation, accusa-tion, "are a triple distilled liarl In the last 10 years you've never given me a single thought when I wasn't right in the same room, and as few as possible then. You've gone and hired some horrible plug-ugly just to embarrass me so I won't go anywhere, any-where, all because in your vile imagination " "Pet," Reynold interrupted, suavely suave-ly mild, "remember your blood pressure. Do you want the veins in your neck standing out when they take those close-ups today?" Swift solicitous fingers fluttered to her throat, stroked it smoothingly. Reynold lit a fat cigar and continued: con-tinued: "My motives, I can only repeat, are of the highest order. As a well-known, well-known, star, you can't afford to ignore ig-nore the current prevalence of kidnaping kid-naping and robbery." In the kitchen on their right sounded a buzz. The titular head of the house glanced around in an almost apprehensive fashion. Then he faced forward again, managing a careless smile. "Ah; yes," he murmured; "that must be the cliap now. I asked him to drop around this morning so you could meet him." Irene gasped and began loudly: "Reynold P. Rand, if you think I'm actually going to put up with this, you're daffy as hell and " Deftly he had risen and slipped through the swing door, leaving her amidspeech. She sprang around the table, bolted after him and then came to a halt just inside the dining din-ing room. Reynold's meager back was toward her, in the hallway; towering neck and more above him stood a great warrior-featured blond lad with gleaming teeth. "Oh. Mr. Irake Rey's just been telling me all about you. Do come in and sit down." Both men faced her, one surprised, sur-prised, the other wearing a mask of cold politeness. "How do you do, Mrs. Rand?" The tone was self-possessed and impersonal. im-personal. "It's a pleasure to meet you; I've seen so many of your pictures." His indifference brought an added thrill. Here indeed was novelty! "Thank you," she said, leading him into the library. "Reynold, will you please call the studio and tell them I'll be a little late. Mr. Drake and I need to chat and get acquainted." He came at nine that evening, looking monumental but even handsomer hand-somer in dress clothes. Driving alone, they went to the Capitol club. For an hour she enjoyed herself utterly. Drake still would unbend but slightly. She was trying for the dozenth time to draw him into conversation con-versation when, several tables away, she suddenly glimpsed a familiar fa-miliar face, and started. Maurice! As she stared he saw her, evidently not for the first time. Elaborately he bowed; the accompanying smile was hard, ironic. Quickly she glanced at her escort, es-cort, and as instantly knew real excitement. ex-citement. He had seen, too! He was positively glaring in that direction. di-rection. Irene leaned across the table ta-ble to whisper: "Never mind he's probably tight. I never laid eyes on him before." But it was futile; that seemed only to aggravate matters. With a bull-like growl deep in his young chest, Drake sprang up and was striding toward the offender, fists hugely doubled. Shocked wonder checked her thoughts as she saw him charge straight past Maurice, heading for the table beyond. Then the tow-headed tow-headed giant pulled a man out of a chair, sent him down again with a right to the chin and the withheld little shriek burst from Irene. Incredibly, In-credibly, the man Drake had punched was Reynold! The next second or so she never recalled. She only knew that at last her bodyguard was standing Before her again; that one enormous hand inexorably grasped the wrist of a tearful little thing with auburn hair. "Sorry. Mrs. Rand," he said in a voice like avenging thunder, "but I'll have to leave you now, and I won't be coming back. It seems this stuff should begin at home, so from now on I'll be shadowing my wife." |